Dark Mornings 1

Window, street, broken glass, dew. Memories piled up one after another in front of me as the little boy on the road danced his way wearing his school bag. Memories of such a walk, memories of the girl I walked with, memories of schooldays, school-life, school-friends, boys and girls joking, long phone calls, gatherings at each other’s houses, proposals, teasing, loving, hating, fights, pretty girls at school, unforgettable moments, parties, school-fests, whispers, long walks, rides on each other’s vehicles, club, birthdays, highway rides, exams, late-night talks, secret meetings, kisses, winks, shouting, games… and a plethora of other memories were what were the only things remaining with me now. Intangible, abstract… I thought.

Yes, this morning was dark. Dark enough to lose all that I had gained. Dark enough to fall, rise and fall again. The huge trees on the left side of the street which made the street less hot and I.. And she.. And we both, hand in hand, eyes in eyes kept walking. Where are those days? Where is she? Where am I? Where are we? It seems now as if we had never met, we come close, we go far. We go far only to come close again. That evening, rain, thunder, lightning, clearing, cool breeze, walk, talks, her smile, my dream.. lost. Do I remember what I did in the morning before anything else? Yes I do. I messaged her a “Good morning”, with babyish variations like “Gummolning”,”Gud monnin”, “Goooooooooooooooooooood mornin”… Does she remember what she did in the morning before anything else? No she doesn’t.

Breakfast, how it used to be and how is it now? School, how it used to be! Her face, how it used to be! Her smile, how it used to be! All distances, neared in a flick of the eyelid, she knew that I was there, I knew she was there, but both pretended we just realised it. Didn’t we? And what are we now? Sand. My dreams, sand. My life, a castle of sand, washed away regularly by the waves, rebuilt and rewashed. Do I become strong this way? No. Then what am I leading to? Sand.

As I pen this down, I stop, I think, I keep thinking, until I realise I was writing and come back to it. My mind, how calm and composed it used to be, is it so now? No. Why? Don’t know. Am I insane? May be. But? No, I am not. Sure? Yes. Questioning, answering. What has this happened to me? When will I get an answer? When I dissolve into sand…


8 thoughts on “Dark Mornings 1

    1. I am thinking! I actually wrote the I at the end of the title randomly, and had no plans of a sequel. πŸ˜› Though I am writing one nw.. wait for 2 days. πŸ™‚


    1. Don’t you feel that hw I ended ds is really awful.. I mean it’s like shit, isn’t it?? 😦 Sand.. sand.. sand.. Lol, I write nethin. 😦

      P.S.: I changed my theme back to the neater one. πŸ™‚


      1. Are u crazy :S it’s not shit u idiot πŸ˜€ here, i’ll let u onto something:- using the same tone (questions etc) and comparing with the same metaphor is infact a very popular writing tool and is very effective and beautiful πŸ™‚ so i actualy loved ur “sand” para πŸ˜‰
        thnx fr the old theme πŸ˜€


        1. That’s some good advice now. πŸ™‚ Thanx.. πŸ™‚ Kp visiting my site, u r the only one increasing the hits on this blog. πŸ˜›


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